Authors: Donis Casey
All Men Fear Me (11 page)
“Pack up your troubles in your old kit bag
And smile, smile, smile.”
âWorld War I marching song
lyrics by George Asaf
After breakfast and chores, Phoebe, John Lee, and their children, along with Mary, Chase, and Judy met at Alafair's house so that the whole family could go to church together. The rain had stopped so the children and Mary and Phoebe piled into the back of Shaw's quilt-lined hay wagon. Gee Dub and Charlie followed alongside on horseback, and John Lee sat on the bench with Alafair and Shaw, since his stiff leg made it difficult for him to sit on a horse gracefully.
No one commented on Kurt's absence. He told them that he had too much work to do if he wanted to get the co-op's order for pork filled in good order, and he figured God would forgive him. The truth was that he had lost faith that his neighbors would still be able to see him as a man like themselves rather than a native son of the ravening Fatherland. Mary, however, was dead-set on going. She had been part of this community almost all of her life, and she was blessed if she was going to let anybody make her feel like an outsider.
After Alafair had wrangled the children into their Sunday clothes and plaited and re-plaited so many braids that she lost count, she set out to find Rob. She found him sitting in a chair at the edge of the front porch, a cigarette in his hand and four dogs arrayed around his feet.
She sat down on the porch swing. “Robin, I'd be pleased if you'd come to church with us.”
His mouth quirked, and he flipped ash over the side of the porch. “Sister, the last thing y'all need is to be seen in the company of a Wobblie.”
“Nobody around here knows you,” she said, “except for kin. And I don't believe any of Shaw's brothers and sisters know what you do. Even if one them did, they wouldn't say anything.”
He felt a passing pity for her naiveté. “Oh, somebody knows and somebody will blab. That is, if word isn't all over town already. Believe me, it's best not to be seen with me. Shaw's hired men will find something for me to do.”
“Robin, I want you come, now.” She sounded determined. “I won't introduce you to anybody if you don't want me to. Church will do you good, and if you don't believe it, then you going to church will do me good. Please, Robin. Do me this favor.”
Rob felt himself weakening. He had no good opinion of religion, but if it would make his sister happyâ¦
He crushed the butt under his toe and scraped it off the porch with his boot. “Oh, all right. But don't say I didn't warn you.”
Rob climbed into the wagon among much merriment from the children, and they headed out. As they reached the road, Grace began to sing one of her favorite songs to Tuck, and soon everyone joined in the family anthem:
Old Dan Tucker was a mighty man
Washed his face in a frying pan
Combed his hair with a wagon wheel
And died with a toothache in his heel.
Gee Dub trotted beside the wagon on his chestnut mare, Penny, singing along. But Charlie was having trouble controlling his white-maned roan, who skittered hither and yon, tossing his head and generally making a nuisance of himself.
When the horse fell behind the wagon, Sophronia hung over the tailgate and called out over the singing. “Hey, Sweet Honey Darlin', come on up here to Mama, come on up for a nice nose rub and a kiss!”
The roan settled at her voice and nosed her hand with a “whuff.” He gave Charlie no more trouble for the rest of the trip, but Charlie felt like strangling Sophronia with one of her own pigtails.
“Compassion will cure more sins than condemnation.”
âHenry Ward Beecher
Shaw's mother and stepfather lived in a pale gray two-story house on the outskirts of town. The house was bigger than Alafair's house by far, and only two people officially lived in it. Which didn't mean it wasn't always full to bursting with children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren, either visiting or spending the night or a week or a month. Peter McBride raised apples, pecans, and Tennessee Walkers, and a month under his tutelage was worth a semester of agricultural college.
Shaw pulled the wagon to a halt in the drive and everyone piled out to help Grandpapa Peter and Grandma Sally get ready to go into town.
The boys hitched the horses to Peter's four-wheeled carriage while Shaw and Rob hauled out a crate of apples destined for Khouri's Market and loaded it onto the tailgate. Inside the airy parlor, Grandma Sally directed the females to fetch and load boxes of old clothes and quilts for the clothes drive, and jars of fat for the war effort. Before heading out the door, Alafair waited as Sally stopped in the foyer to crown herself with a feathered and beribboned hat.
“So your scandalous socialist brother Robin has come to visit.” Sally's comment was offhand, but there was a bubbling quality to her voice that indicated she was delighted by the fact. “My, it has been years since I've seen him.”
Alafair was shocked. She had just assured Robin not half an hour earlier that few people had any idea of his politics. “I didn't know you ever heard about him and the union, Ma.”
“Well, of course. Your mama writes to me right along. He joined up with the I.W.W. right after the Army, didn't he? That was a long time ago.”
Alafair hadn't considered the fact that her mother and Shaw's mother were friends. “Well, given the times, we've decided to keep quiet about it while he's here. He didn't want to come to church this morning but I talked him into it. I hope I didn't make a mistake.”
Sally dismissed her concern with a wave of the hand. “Oh, don't worry, honey, I ain't going to talk. How is he? He looks good.”
“I think he's pretty wore out. I hope while he's here he'll get rested and maybe decide to pursue a different livelihood.”
Sally laughed at that. “I wouldn't count on it if I was you. I remember what a hard-headed tyke he was. Did he ever make up with your daddy?”
“No.” There was no more to say about that.
“Sorry to hear it, for your mama's sake.” Sally adjusted her bonnet and ran a hatpin through the crown. “Well, let's get to going.”
One large covered basket sat apart near the front door. Alafair bent to pick it up, but Sally stopped her.
“I'm not taking that one today, sugar. It's just a passel of vegetables from my truck garden. I'll deliver it tomorrow.”
“Who's it for?” Alafair asked the question idly. “Josie?” Sally often exchanged goods of all sorts with her eldest daughter.
Sally regarded her reflection in the small mirror beside the front door. “No, I'm taking a few things to Rose Lovelock and the other poor creatures who must toil in such cruel circumstances.”
For a moment Alafair had no idea what she was talking about. Sally McBride had been raised by her Cherokee mother and white father in the deep woods of Arkansas, and had a wildly different understanding of reality from most of the ordinary people Alafair knew. It was not unusual for Alafair to have to take a moment to get her bearings with Sally. Her first thought was who is Rose Lovelock? But as she uttered the word “who's”, the light dawned.
Sally's sharp black eyes were gazing at Alafair's image in the mirror. Her expression was amused and not a little ironic. “Close your mouth before you eat a fly, Alafair.”
“You mean those harlots in the house at the end of Kenetick Street?”
Sally turned to face her and broke into a grin. “I'm surprised you even know such a place exists, honey.”
“But, Ma, what if somebody finds out you've been talking to those fallen women?”
“I'm careful about when I go by there. Besides, I ain't planning to tell any of our upstanding neighbors about it. Are you?”
Alafair's eyes were so wide that it almost hurt. “Gracious, no! Does Grandpapa know what you're up to?” She cast a glance toward the door to make sure none of her children were close enough to hear this shocking conversation.
Sally raised a warning finger. “Now, Peter don't have to know everything I do and I don't expect you to tell him. Or Shaw neither. Don't make me sorry I told you, now.”
“Oh, of course not, Ma. But why on earth would you associate with those women? Is this your way of bringing them the Lord's word in hopes they'll change their ways?”
Sally hung the basket of loaves for the food drive over one arm and threaded the other through Alafair's. “I've always thought that women are too hard on each other, shug. We have enough trouble with men and their foolish notions about how things ought to be. We don't need to be so mean to one another. Now, let's go before the fellows wonder what we're up to.”
Alafair dug in her heels, unwilling to drop this sensational bit of information. “Wait a minute, Ma⦔
Sally cut her off. “I'll tell you later how this all came about. But don't be so quick to judge, darlin'. If you heard some of those poor girls' stories you'd have more compassion for them. Just think about how folks judge your brother and they don't even know him or why he is like he is.” An impish smile lit her face. “Maybe you should come with me to Rose's next time I visit.”
Alafair's stomach flipped at the thought. “Oh, my,” she managed, before Sally dragged her out the door.
“No Conscription! No Involuntary Service!”
âArmy veteran Bruce Rogers,
anti-draft pamphlet, 1917
Rob couldn't remember the last time he went to church. Most likely the last time he had visited a relative and couldn't get out of it. Rather like today. Since he had converted to the socialist philosophy, he found it hard to accept the doctrine that poverty and class differences were God's will.
The congregation was abuzz with the news that Win Avey had been found murdered that very morning. Scott was not at church since he was transporting his prisoner to Muskogee. Deputy Trent Calder was there, though, and was the center of attention. The circumstances of Avey's death were whispered aroundâa brawl with a draft-dodger. Still, the fact that the brawl had occurred at a brothel was of more interest than the victim's politics.
Rob enjoyed himself more than he had expected. He met Martha's husband, Streeter McCoy, and Alice's, Walter Kelley, and liked both of them very much. He also met Ruth's beloved, Trenton Calder, tall, thin, and sincere, and so redheaded that it was startling. Rob could tell by their attitudes as they shook his hand which of his nieces' menfolk knew his background and which did not. Walter Kelly was so hail-fellow-well-met that he either knew nothing or didn't care. Streeter McCoy greeted him warmly but gave him a speculative once-over, reserving judgment for the moment. Trenton Calder looked at him like he was itching to clap him in irons, but gave him a firm handshake and a nod, determined to be civil for Ruth's sake.
Rob loved singing the hymns from his childhood, and he enjoyed the sense of community that bound a group of like believers. When the preacher gave his fiery, guilt-inducing sermon, Robin took the opportunity to catch a quick nap. At the last âamen,' he awoke refreshed and still in a good mood. He allowed Alafair to introduce him to some of her neighbors as the parishioners filed out of the sanctuary, but managed to escape before the preacher made his way down the aisle.
Afterward, he leaned against the wall of the First Christian Church, in the back of the building where the autos and buggies were parked and waited for Alafair and Shaw to round up their children for the trip home. He intended to smoke his gasper in peace, but before he could finish, two men he didn't know came striding toward him with a will.
His half-smoked cigarette was pinched between his finger and thumb, and he watched the men's purposeful approach with trepidation, fearing either a lecture on the duties of a patriot, or Christian witness for the benefit of his soul.
One of them was a little guy, mostly Indian. He was young and good-looking, in clothes that had seen better days and were none too clean, rather like their occupant. He had a stiff brush of black hair and black eyes that shone with zeal. The other one was tall and lanky, middle-aged, with stringy blond hair and a permanent scowl.
The duo came to a firm halt in front of Rob. “You Rob Gunn?” The older man spoke first.
“I am, neighbor. What can I do for you?”
“We've been looking for you. I've heard your name before. Is it true that you're a union man and a socialist?”
Rob's heart sank. So much for remaining incognito. He felt for the cosh in the front pocket of his trousers, just in case. “I am, friend. But I'm not here on union business. I'm just passing through long enough to visit some of my folks.” He kept his tone mild and non-confrontational.
His accoster nodded and glanced around to check for eavesdroppers. His young companion spoke up. “My name is Dick Miller, from down around Pottawatomie County, and this here is Dutch Leonard. He lives just east of town, here. I'm with the Working Class Union.”
“And I belong to the I.W.W., same as you,” Leonard said. “I work over to the brick plant. Friend of mine with the I.W.W. office in Tulsa told us that there was a national rep here in Boynton. Dick and another fellow and I come here yesterday to try and find you.”
Miller leaned in and slipped Rob a handbill. “All the folks around here from the W.C.U. and the Oklahoma Socialist Party will be having a secret meeting next week to plan a way to stop this country from hauling honest men off to fight in this damn war against their will. I'm hoping you'll go down to our encampment with me, and confab with us on behalf of the I.W.W.”
Rob blinked at him. This was not what he had been expecting at all, though it occurred to him that he shouldn't be surprised. Oklahoma was full of unionists and socialists. Not all of them would have abandoned the cause the minute the war began. He slipped the handbill into his vest pocket. “What do you expect I can do, Brother Miller?”
“Talk to us,” Miller said. “We want to know what plans the Wobblies have to stop this draft madness in its tracks. We want the I.W.W. behind us when we rise up. Lend the strength of the I.W.W. to our cause, Brother.”
Rob flipped his cigarette into the dirt. “Come on, Brothers. Let's take a stroll.”
The three men wandered away from the hall. They were well down the road before Rob spoke again. “So a few fellows from the W.C.U. have a plan to get us out of the war.”
Miller was alight with enthusiasm. “More than a few fellows, Mr. Gunn. They's hundreds of us. And not just Working Class Union members, neither. All the tenant farmers of every color, and Holy Rollers and us Injuns and ever man that ever had to work for a living. Why, near to the entire state of Oklahoma is a'gin the war, and I reckon most of the rest of the country is, too.”
Rob gave Miller a sidelong glance. “You think so? What newspapers have you been reading, Brother?”
“I don't need to read no papers, Brother Gunn. I got ears and eyes, don't I? I hear what my neighbors are a'saying. And I'm here to tell you that we aim to stop this damned war that them criminals out East has thrust upon us.”
Rob clasped his hands behind his back and kept his eyes on the road. He expected that Miller didn't “read no papers” because he couldn't read at all. “And just how are you aiming to do that, Brother Miller?”
“We're aiming to rise up and take over the government. We're a'going to start by blowing up the railroads and the bridges and taking over the banks and the newspapers. Then, we're going to march east, all the way to Washington, and all the working men betwixt here and there will join up with us until we're stronger than any Army. And when we get to Washington, we'll hang all them rich brigands that call themselves the government and take it over ourselves.”
Rob addressed the older man. “What do you have to do with this?”
“I told Dick I'd help get the I.W.W. behind them, if I could.”
“And when is this uprising supposed to happen?”
“Upon our signal,” Miller said. “We're almost ready to go. Maybe next week.”
Rob stopped walking and turned to face the men. “Have y'all thought this through? Are you prepared for what will happen if you take up arms against the United States government?”
“We'll do what we have to do to take back the United States government for the people.” Miller was straining forward eagerly, thrumming with passion. “And besides, we won't fail!”
Rob stood still and gazed at the eager face and the face set with grim determination for a long minute before they turned around and started walking back toward the church. “You say this meeting is secret?”
“It is,” Leonard replied.
“How do you know that I'm not Secret Service?”
Leonard snorted in derision, but Miller looked stunned. “I heard you was a Wobblie organizer and a right well-known one.”
“Well, I don't know about well-known, but I'm a Wobblie, all right. If you intend to keep this plan secret, then I suggest you be more careful about who you go to blabbing to about it. Next time, ask to see a union card.”
Miller emitted a nervous laugh. “Shoot fire, don't go to scaring me like that, Brother. So are you telling me that you won't join our cause?”
Rob's gaze slid off into the distance and they walked in silence for a while. Finally he shot Miller a narrow glance. “When is y'all's next meeting?”
“We put out a call for all right-thinking folks to come out and join us at our meeting place next Saturday,” Miller said.
“Will you send somebody to carry me in?”
Miller grinned. “You bet!”
“Will you let me talk to y'all before you commence this march to Washington?”
Leonard nodded. “That's what we're hoping for.”
“Then I'll wire the I.W.W. regional headquarters for instructions. Give me a day or two. I'd rather not send the wire from Boynton. If they give me the go-ahead, I'll come. How can I get in touch with you?”
“Send the wire from over at Morris,” Miller said. “When you get the answer, leave a message for âMr. Jones' at the post office there. Just say yes or no. If it's yes, I will meet up with you after the Liberty Sing on Friday and we'll make arrangements.”
Dutch Leonard lowered his voice. “Try to keep yourself on the down-low until then, Brother Gunn. There was a spot of trouble last night at the local bawdy house and one of our number got hisself arrested. Our boy's a good fellow, but if Sheriff Tucker has got him to spill that the W.C.U. is in town, he'll be on the lookout to arrest as many unionists as he can find before Friday.”
Rob frowned. “Brother Leonard, I've been watching out for myself longer than I care to say. I warn y'all to do the same.”